Everett and Alicia somehow escaped injury in the blaze. Guilt feelings at deflowering his girlfriend in the hay loft crescendoed when Grandpa asked what they were doing up there. He couldn’t handle the man knowing their sins.
She was the Everett’s love of his young life, his reason for being, his muse.
Youthful lust evidenced in her hair askance, a used condom on cracked boards, boxer shorts stuffed between bales.
Not the cigarette lighter he gripped to cover their immorality. The other hand singed in pushing his love to safety.
It was a hot day; whole damn thing went up.
photo credit: Gary Todd via Flickr